Guess where EGG and I are off to this week? Europe, yes Europe for a whole month so this weekend's activity consisted of us both maniacally running around the place getting reading for our European adventure.
You know for just a minute there I almost nailed Posh Spice--oh we're off to Europe; for a month; should be fab--but this is where Posh and I part ways. Yes it's the journey and for Posh it's the private jet, but for poor lil old me it's good old economy. But I live in hope that a check in person is going to be overwhelmed by my sparkling personality and upgrade me to first class (but I'll settle for business--I'm not fussy, hear).
You know I have a little confession to make. I was once upgraded to business class for a trip to Singapore. It was my first big overseas trip and EGG and I got upgraded. It was heaven. I practically crash tackled the lovely little attendant as she handed out all that free booze. I luxuriated in that great big seat and I scoffed down every meal off lovely china plates--ooh it was good. But it ruined me. I mistakenly thought all international flights were like that but no. On the return journey home, EGG and I turned right instead of left at the door and my glamorous international jet setting career was over. I sobbed into my seat all the way back to Australia casting furtive glances around my seat and down the aisle where my former comrades laid back in the luxury I knew was there. That was my first and last tilt at the high life but I live in hope.
EGG on the other hand gets upgraded all the time. Once, they upgraded him as he turned right. They grabbed him by the arm and steered him left, all the way to first class. You know SSS and I half suspected that he was making it up, but no he brings home all those cool little toiletries bags that SSS and I pathetically squabble over. Pre-terrorism he actually got to sit in the cockpit.
EGG actually wanted to fly separately to me because he thought he might be a chance of being upgraded if he was solo. He might also be a chance of being divorced if this were to happen.
I was allocated a good seat last year when I flew to Europe. It was right near the exit. Of course this was the only row where the television didn't work, but I didn't mind because lots of people thought it would be a great place to do their anti DVT exercises. Who needs TV when you can get a free sideshow of big bums and sweaty armpits and all that scintillating conversation. Needless to say I was happy to sit elsewhere on the return home.
EGG has brilliant plans for our time away. Can you believe he wants to ride a scooter around the Amalfi Coast, with me on the back, me who falls off everything. He wants to climb the Eiffel Tower, he wants to hire a boat at Lake Como, he wants to take me in a gondola in Venice. I'll probably plumment off the Eiffel Tower, sink the boat at Como and what are the odds I'll fall out of that gondola into the stinky canal.
I, on the other hand, will be quite content to stroll around museums, take long luxurious drinks in cafes, eat everything in sight and guzzle French wine till my heart's content.
I can't wait. This is my last post for a month or so.
Au revoir and ciao.
J is for journey.
